Until Heaven Shatters
by CrystalSaffron
Summary: Angel muses on the day of his Shanshu. One-shot. Read please!


Author: CrystalSaffron

Rating: Pg-13 for adult themes

Summary: Angel muses on the day of his Shanshu

Disclaimer: I don't own it...things would have turned out a little differently if I did. So please don't sue!

Feedback: Please review!

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What was supposed to be the happiest day of my existence, turned into a day of disappointment and pain.

I was a vampire. I turned human. I was happy, exuberated, pleased, and all of the other words there are to describe a person who's beyond blissfully happy. There was only one thing missing, and that was her.

I missed her glorious sunshine smile. Not the fake one that she often through out to the rest of reality, but the one reserved just for me. The one that told of past pain ignored, current annoyances pushed away, and just pure contentment. Pure happiness was out of the question for us, but we had always known that. Instead it was to be truly content in our lives and each other.

I drove for what felt to me like hours and then hopped on a plane and flew off to my hometown where she had last been known to be staying.

I was going to tell her that this time there was no going back. That this would be the last time for her to have to greet me, because this time I was staying. I was never going to leave her charisma, her beauty, or her love behind. It couldn't be ignored anymore.

I loved her.

I didn't know. If I had known I would have gone back to my dark and desolate existence, feeding off blood bags and hiding from the light. Hiding but wanting, always wanting. Just like her.

I would have dealt with my other, more evil side in the back of my mind, telling me to take what was mine and to screw the consequences. Always whispering, always grating on my nerves and causing me to snap and demolish another wall.

And just when I figured my life couldn't get any worse, it normally did. Weather having someone I love die in my arms, or having another fight to finish. Always another fight. Always pounding away, without emotion, without the passion that used to dictate my motions in life. Always another dead body to cling to and let dry tears fall upon. Always another life to loose.

I had stopped caring about everything. About the few friends I had, about fighting the good fight, about living. The only thing I did care about, _could_ care about, was her. It was what kept me from turning into a rotting skeleton or a pile of dust.

But then something changed. The day came where I lost another friend, and this time even she couldn't save me. I just sat there with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a stake in the other. I couldn't think anymore, I couldn't exist anymore. So I thought I shouldn't _exist_ anymore.

When I had closed my eyes and readied my hand for the final plunge, I choked. Not in the, I-can't-do-this, sense but the, I-can't-breathe, sense. After not breathing for nearly 400 plus years, anyone would.

I dropped the stake and the bottle and it rolled away from me as I retched on the floor, emptying my stomach of the blood I had previously drunk the night before. My head pounded and my limbs ached.

It felt like being born again and damn did it hurt.

When I was finally able to clear my head I realized that my heart was beating. I was in shock for at least another hour before one thought came racing across my mind. I needed to tell her.

I needed to tell her how much I loved her, missed her, wanted her. Wanted to tell her everything from the day that we left each other.

So that's where I was, standing in front of her door, in the house that used to be my home, so many years ago.

I pushed away those lingering memories and knocked on her door. No one answered but the door swung open.

The first seeds of dread entered my mind. What if she had moved? How was I ever going to find her? I entered the house, these thoughts plaguing my mind.

I walked through the house, relieving memories of times long ago, when I was a fool. I guess in ways I still am a fool, but an experienced one.

I opened the door to what used to be my room and stopped cold. The candle that had been lit went out with my entrance, much like my new-found warmth.

There she was, lying on the bed, hair splayed about her like a halo of light. Tan skin, somewhat paled, but still glorious. She reminded me of a Goddess I had once met. Yet she was much more exquisite then any Goddess. She transcended divinity.

Her dress was made out of finest silk and it was smooth to the touch. It was a beautiful crimson color and it reminded me of recently spilt blood.

That's when I realized that the dress was originally white. And the 'beautiful' crimson color was actually blood. And it was recently spilt.

Panic overtook my senses and I desperately searched for a way to revive her, but the moment I started I knew it was too late. I cried for what seemed like centuries and I probably will cry until the day that my body dies. My soul died along with her.

I raved to the powers, screamed at them, cursed them to damnation, pleaded with them, bargained with them, and finally just asked them why.

Their answer came in the form of a child. She wasn't human; I could tell that from just looking at her. Her hair was raven-black and her eyes were a blinding gold. It was painful to look at her. Her voice didn't sound like the sound of angels, like I had suspected but an indifferent voice of an unemotional child.

She had no sympathy for me, I could tell that. She didn't care about my sadness or my madness. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that my love, my Goddess had given up her life in turn for mine. She told me that she had felt it the moment that I stopped caring and begged the Powers that Be to do anything to save me.

I wasn't mad at her I would have done the same thing. The Raven Child left me, crying my life into the dirt and the gray sky.

Now I'm supposed to live in this world, one I haven't lived in from the moment I died the first time. And I'm supposed to do it without her.

No rest for the weary, no relief for the wicked, even if they've stopped being wicked a long time ago. The only thing I can do now is hope that she waits for me up there, and do whatever I can to be worthy enough to be with her.

Damnation for me didn't start when I was turned into a vampire.

It started when I fell in love with her. I'm paying the price and I will always be. Because I'll never stop loving her. Not until heaven shatters.


End file.
